


All Mod Cons

by missdibley



Category: British Actor RPF, High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 1970's, Cunnilingus, F/M, Flirting, High-Rise - Freeform, Key Party, Oral Sex, Smut, intercourse, unprotected intercourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early days of the high-rise, before debauchery devolves into destruction, Marina Madrigal wonders if she might be unwelcome at a rather sophisticated party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Mod Cons

It was just half nine on a balmy evening in June when Marina Madrigal turned up at the high-rise that sat, lonely and imposing, on the edge of town. Standing before the man at the security desk in her second best party dress and her first best shoes, she stared at his bald and shiny pate while he examined her identification card.

“Madrigal?” Stone (all of the high-rise’s staff went by their last names) held the card back up, not looking at her as he reached for the house telephone. “And she’s expecting you, is she?”

“Yes,” replied Marina. “Nora Salmon in 703.”

“But you’re here for a party on the 27th floor?”

Marina nodded. “Yes, sir.” She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Stone said into the receiver. “Is this Miss Salmon? Ah, she’s already gone? There’s an, erm, Miss Madrigal to see her. Oh. I see. Very well, then. Good eve-” The man frowned, his brow creasing as he looked back up at Marina. “Miss Salmon has already made her way to the party. Her roommate has instructed me to show you up to the 27th floor.”

“I see,” said Marina. She smoothed down her skirt. “Thank you, sir.”

“Hold on, miss.” Stone stood up slowly from his chair. “I don’t think I should leave my post. I’ll get the custodian, he can take you up in the lift.”

And so he did. Stone summed the custodian on duty, a young heavyset man whose jumpsuit strained mightily around his midsection. They made an odd couple, the custodian with his stained uniform and Marina almost prim in a long shift comprised of several layers of filmy white batiste cotton.

The corridor on the 27th floor had gleaming floors, and every fixture and fitting was polished chrome. Marina inspected herself in a mirror that hung just above a marble ashtray. The dress was cut close enough to reveal the hint of a tummy and round hips that were a touch more generous than her bosom. While her hair may have been too frizzy to be considered curly, it didn’t detract from her wide dark eyes and full pink cheeks.

She barely knew Nora, but the younger woman was fun. A colleague from the airline that had recently transferred Marina to rainy London from blustery Chicago, Nora’s chief ambition was to marry a pilot, move to one of the better villages in the home counties, and have lots of babies. Until then, Nora intended to have fun. And if she was going to have fun, then Marina, the exotic new hire from America, was going to have fun, too.

Somewhere, a door opened, and then all of a sudden Marina heard the sounds of people laughing, drinks being poured, and the scratch of records as they were changed on the phonograph. She peered at herself again, took a deep breath and made her way to 2705.

The flat wasn’t terribly big, but it did possess a large living room furnished simply if curiously with leather beanbag chairs and tuffets scattered around a shag rug. Accepting a cup of punch from a gentleman with beady eyes and rather short fingers, Marina held her drink but did not consume it. She tried not to laugh at the people who struggled to get up from their seats on the ground. A small crowd in the middle stood laughing around a large object that she could not see. Just as she was about to ask around for Nora, Marina was jostled from behind.

“Oh, goodness. I didn’t see you there.” The voice was apologetic and cool. When Marina turned around, she tripped on her long skirt and nearly fell into the man who bumped into her. He was tall, with reddish hair, sympathetic blue eyes, and a firm jaw. Handsome, definitely. Dressed in a gray suit, the gentleman took a quick glance at her gown. “Oh, I didn’t make you spill.”

Marina tried not to let herself be too distracted by the warmth creeping up the back of her neck. She peeked down at her dress - white, spotless, almost virginal. “No, you didn’t.” Looking around the room, Marina caught sight of a sultry brunette wearing mirrored platform sandals with a rather abbreviated dress in black and yellow. “But maybe spilling punch would have been an improvement.”

“It’s a nice dress,” replied the man. He lifted his glass to her.

“I’d rather be wearing something like that.” Marina nodded at the brunette. The man followed her gaze, his face stilling when he saw the woman who caught Marina’s eye. “She seems awfully sophisticated.”

“I suppose she does,” the man said evenly. He turned his attention back to Marina. “But this dress suits you, I think.”

“Thank you.” Marina smiled up at him shyly. “So, are you the host? Is this your party? I don’t live here. I’m meant to meet my friend here. She lives on the seventh floor.”

“Ah.” The stranger made a small bow. “It is not my flat but I do live in the building. Robert Laing, at your service.”

“Marina Madrigal. My friend Nora Salmon is a colleague. And missing, I’m afraid.”

“Nora? I think I met her earlier. Smoking on the terrace, I think. Would you like me to take you to her?”

“Oh, I would…” Marina had always wanted a man who looked like Laing to escort her somewhere, anywhere, even if it was just to find her flighty friend. Before he could offer his arm for her to take, the brunette joined them.

“Robert!” She smiled, a bit too widely for her cat-like face. “Introduce me to your pretty friend.”

“Erm, yes.” Laing suppressed a grimace. “Marina Madrigal, may I present Charlotte Melville. Not the host of this fête, but a resident and something of a social force in the building.”

“He’s being kind,” drawled Charlotte. She ran her hand lightly along Robert’s forearm. “He just means I have something of a reputation.”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t…” Marina stammered. She looked in the direction of curtains that fluttered in the breeze. “What I mean to say is, pardon me. It was nice meeting the both of you.”

Before Marina exited onto the terrace, she took a quick look at Laing and Charlotte as they stood close together. Charlotte kept turning her body, hips first, into Laing’s, forcing him to retreat ever so slightly. Her touch was light but persistent - brushing off an imagined piece of lint, or tapping his pocket so he could give her a cigarette. Marina didn’t care that if they had already slept together, or were about to. She just couldn’t shake the feeling of annoyance, the sense that the only reason Charlotte was flirting with Laing now was because he been so attentive to her.

* * *

“So that bloke I was chatting to when you turned up? Tony, just moved to London from Manchester. As if I couldn’t already tell from the accent! Anyway, he’s 29 and a junior banker in town.”

Nora had pulled Marina into the loo so they could gossip about the other guests.

“Do you like him?” Marina fiddled with her tube of lipstick.

“Do I like him? Not really. Do I like the look of him in those tight trousers? Yes, I think I rather do.” Nora threw her head back and laughed. “Who was that you were talking to?”

“Robert Laing and, ah, Charlotte Melville. Do you know them?”

“Laing? Yes. Charlotte says he’s the best amenity in the building!”

“Oh dear…” Marina didn’t know what to think.

“From what Charlotte’s told me, he’s a psychiatrist. Teaches at the hospital here on the estate. Divorced, I think? Also divine in the sack. Even Helen on the third floor said so.”

“How many women has he slept with?”

“I don’t know, darling, and I can’t say that I care.” Nora smirked at their reflection in the mirror. “Don’t look so sour, Marina. Let’s find out if he’s accepting new patients…”

“Nora!” Marina tried to look scandalized but laughed instead.

“See what kind of bedside manner he’s got!”

“Fine! Fine.” Marina shook her head. “Come on. Maybe he can prescribe something for your raging hormones!”

Having rejoined the party, Marina kept her distance from Laing while Charlotte hovered about him. Still, though, she managed to catch his eye across the room a few times. They would exchange looks, then smile and nod before Charlotte could catch them at it. It wasn’t much of a flirtation but it was all she could manage. Marina wasn’t exactly shy, but she didn’t want to make trouble for herself or for Nora.

The gathering hit its peak around midnight, when the crowd that had huddled around the middle of the room parted to reveal a large glass bowl filled with small manila envelopes.

“Now before we send you fine people off…” A tall, broad-chested man in a linen suit raised his hands as the guests booed him good-naturedly. “We have something in the way of party favors for the women.” He swept his arm at the bowl. “Ladies, please come forward as you are called.”

In order of arrival, the man shouted out the name of all the women in attendance. One by one, they turned up, reached into the bowl for an envelope, then revealed the contents of each. In the envelopes were keys. Keys to the flats of every man at the party. Marina gasped in shock when the first woman called, a meek plump thing who looked 70 if she was a day, was claimed by a wiry young man who didn’t look a day over 30.

When Nora’s name was called, she popped up, quick as you please, and ran to the bowl. She didn’t swirl her hand around for long, taking only a second to choose. Her key belonged to Tony the junior banker, who looked a bit smug as Nora dragged him away.

Then there were two envelopes left in the bowl, and two women left to draw keys. Charlotte Melville, and Marina herself.

“But she doesn’t even live here!” Charlotte tried to sound light and gay, but her eyes did not sparkle as she regarded Marina from her spot at Laing’s side.

The host shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. She’s a guest, a friend of Nora’s. And we can’t have an odd man out. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” He gestured, first to Laing, and then to the beady eyed man at the punch bowl.

“It’s o-okay,” stuttered Marina. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh but I do!” Nora piped up. “Come on, Charlotte!”

“And what are you going to do with two, anyway,” the host wondered.

“Quite a lot, if the stories I’ve heard are true.” A man standing behind Marina snorted into his drink as he spoke.

“I heard that, Wilder!” Charlotte looked furious.

The host hoisted the bowl up. “Charlotte? We’re waiting.”

Charlotte removed both envelopes, holding one in each hand, and walked across the room to Marina. She showed them off. “Well? Why don’t you choose?”

Marina met Charlotte’s steely gaze with one of her own, then took the envelope in the other woman’s left hand.

* * *

There was nothing romantic about Laing’s flat. Boxes stood in precarious towers where one would have expected furniture or a potted tree. The mattress and boxspring were set awkwardly in a corner of his bedroom, but the sheets upon it were clean and fresh. They were white, glowing in the faint light that shone through his window, and not unlike the simple gown of white batiste cotton that lay in a puddle at the foot of the bed.

Laing, after taking his key out of Marina’s hand, had escorted her from the party. While some of the others began to brag about starting an orgy, the pair absconded with a bottle of vinho verde. The wine went well with the remaining cigarettes in Laing’s pocket, then with the only food he had in his refrigerator - a slice of birthday cake cadged from a child’s party.

He had meant to apologize for his shortcomings as a host but never got the opportunity. She was simply having too much fun. There was nothing to apologize for. Marina tried out his lounger, blushing prettily when he admitted to sunbathing in the nude. Marina laughed when he described his early encounters with some of the more colorful characters in the building.

“Well,” Marina said as they stood on the terrace. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

“I thought it was for you to decide.” Laing looked thoughtful. “You are the lady, and my guest.”

“Well, then,” replied Marina. “Make me more at home, then.” She smiled sweetly, then held out her hand so he could take her into the bedroom.

Lately Laing’s bed had been for tripping over as he passed out, snoring after too much drink. Or tumbling into whenever some woman in the building had taken it into her head that she had to get a little of what Charlotte Melville or Helen Wilder got. It was only fair, and Laing thought he was being polite in not refusing their advances. Bed had become a place to fuck and to forget.

Though he had removed his jacket, then shoes and socks, he was otherwise still clothed while he began the process of undressing Marina. Her filmy dress slipped off easily, leaving her standing in just a bra and knickers before him. She wasn’t trim and sleek like Charlotte, or ripe like Helen. His fingers brushed the underside of her belly, just over her knickers, and she laughed.

Laing lunged for her, growling playfully as he did. Marina scrambled back, falling into the bedclothes. She pulled them over herself and Laing, then helped him out of the rest of his suit. She was sorry to see the tight white shirt go, but glad for the broad, lean chest and taut stomach. Socks, his trousers, and then Marina’s undergarments, all tossed in a heap on the floor next to her abandoned dress.

Relaxing into one another, they breathed each other in slowly and deeply as they began to kiss. Marina’s legs parted so Laing, lying atop her, could settle his body between them. Her mouth was small but full, made for nibbling as he desired. She whined when his kisses began to trail along her jaw, then down her throat and to her breasts. Laing took his time licking her nipples into stiff peaks, noisily sucking on the hardened tips. When Marina whimpered, he nipped at them playfully.

Her hands followed the trail his lips had set, fingers lightly tracing the spots where he had kissed and nuzzled her tender skin. She pinched her own nipples when he moved further down her body, planting kisses on her soft belly and hips before his mouth found its way to her sex. She was already so wet so Laing felt he had no choice but to taste her immediately. Marina tasted rich, clean and just a little brackish. He used his hands gently, placing them on her inner thighs so he could push them further apart, slip his tongue inside her. But she bucked, as she was ticklish there as well.

Laing laughed softly. “Hold still, darling. You’re awfully sensitive, did you know?”

“Is there a cure for me, doctor?” Marina asked dreamily.

Laing looked up, and was pleased to find her smiling down at him. “Yes, Miss Madrigal. Liberal applications of my tongue, fingers, and cock, until the situation improves.”

Before Marina could reply, he resumed his ministrations. Between lavish sweeps of his tongue up and down her slit, he licked deep inside her while two of his fingers circled her clit with increasing pressure and speed. She could do nothing but whine as the good doctor treated her.

“Oh, please,” begged Marina. “Don’t stop.”

“Shall I then?” He kissed her thigh. “Shall I make you come?”

“Oh fuck, yessss…” Marina’s head fell back when Laing’s mouth fell upon her once more. Furiously circling her clit with his tongue, his fingers pumped inside of her quickly. She tightened around him, back arched and hands tugging so hard on his hair it hurt. But the pain felt good to him. It was sharp and tight, hard just like his cock which he had been grinding into the bed.

Marina moaned for him, louder and louder until she found her voice again and yelled. “Fuck me! Just fuck me, please!”

Laing obeyed, moving quickly so that he knelt between her legs. He grasped his cock then brushed it against her clit, once and then again, before he entered her. Laing was so close, but he wanted to last, too. He was slow, taking great pains not to begin thrusting away. This wasn’t bored Charlotte writhing energetically if unconvincingly on her expensive dining table. Neither was this moody Helen with her sad eyes, begging him to bend her over his kitchen counter. Marina was fun and sweet, who looked so angelic in her innocent white dress but looked much more compelling out of it. Naked, dark eyes sparkling with desire and mischief, she was just what the doctor ordered.

When Laing wrapped her legs around him at the waist, Marina drew him in close. Her lips found his, laughing as she kissed him, then purring when he rolled his hips slowly. “Oh yes, that’s it… so good. Mmm.” She hissed in his ear. “Yes. More of that. More. More.” He went up on his knees, then braced himself by planting his hands on either side of her. Though he missed the closeness, damp bodies pressed together, Laing was compensated for the loss with the welcome sight of her breasts bouncing as he fucked her. Her face was flushed, awkward as the ache of pleasure began to bloom and then crest into climax. But her satisfaction was hard to deny. She slipped a hand between them, rubbing her clit quickly with her index finger. Laing never could resist that, a woman touching herself for her benefit but also for his. Marina squeezed her eyes shut, her hand moving faster, and all at once he felt her begin to come. Laing kept up, plunging his cock into her until at last he couldn’t hold back and came, hard and deep inside of her.

When Marina felt him stiffen, jerking his hips before collapsing on top of her, she managed to catch sight of him. Charlotte had referred to him as an excellent specimen, and Marina found she could not disagree. He was handsome, wore his suits well, and knew how to please a lady. But there was something vulnerable in him, in the way he stood almost awkwardly at the party while Charlotte hovered around him. The apologetic way he showed her around his under-furnished home. The way his face looked when he came, so awkward but also so relaxed as he surrendered to the feeling of release and abandonment. In all aspects, Marina felt that he was beautiful. She told him just as much.

“That’s an unusual thing to say to a man you’ve just taken to bed.” Laing lay in her arms, cheek pressed to her breast. He pressed a kiss to its gentle slope.

“Well, you are.” Marina looked up at the ceiling. “You are quite beautiful.”

“As are you, Miss Madrigal.” Laing lifted his head so he could look at her face properly. “Beautiful, and quite gracious.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Marina admitted. “I mean, there was a moment there with Charlotte right after we got our keys where I thought I might…”

“Fight? Over me?” Laing smirked. “Should I be flattered?”

“Maybe just a little. Oh don’t look so smug!” Marina booped his nose. “The other bloke didn’t look so bad. In the right light.”

“Is that so?” Laing recalled the man’s awkward demeanor. “Should I reconsider my behavior, model myself after him?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as that.” Marina shifted, taking Laing’s hand so he could scoot up to face her. “But if you could learn how to make his delicious punch, then maybe…”

Laing cut her off with a kiss, meeting her laughter with his own, until the kissing became more insistent. While her hands were back in his hair, his hands grasped her soft thighs, and then they were making love again until, for the first time since he had moved into the high-rise, Laing got a good night's sleep.


End file.
